


We’ve Seen Die Hard Nine Million Times Already, Dean

by cordelia_gray



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: blindfold_spn, Dirty Talk, M/M, Porn, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordelia_gray/pseuds/cordelia_gray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a re-post of a fill for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/"><b>blindfold_spn</b></a>, so - all porn; no plot. Also probably the dirtiest thing I've written so far, so yeah.</p>
    </blockquote>





	We’ve Seen Die Hard Nine Million Times Already, Dean

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of a fill for [](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/profile)[**blindfold_spn**](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/), so - all porn; no plot. Also probably the dirtiest thing I've written so far, so yeah.

Written for this prompt: _Sam is such a slut for his brother's cock. He loves to just drop to his knees and rub his face against Dean's bulge, smelling his scent and mouthing Dean's cock through his underwear until Dean can't take anymore and forcefully fucks Sam's willing mouth. Dean's rough, pulls on Sam's hair, makes him choke on it (but please no vomiting). Sam loves every minute of it, he can't get enough of Dean's big dick. Extra bonus if, at some point, Dean pulls Sam away from his cock, holds him there, makes Sam beg Dean to keep using his face._

  
There are a lot of hidden depths to Sam, a lot of things that people looking at him all dressed up in one of their many semi-respectable disguises would never guess.

As far as Dean’s concerned, the very best of these things is that it turns out that Sam is a total cockslut, at least where Dean is concerned. The first time Sam went down on him, it was pretty clear that he didn’t have a lot of experience, which was just fine with Dean: the idea that he’d had any experience at all with guys who weren’t Dean was enough to work him into a possessive rage. He tried not to think about Sam’s college years, and focus instead on the blowjob he was getting. Sam certainly made up for in enthusiasm what he may have lacked in technique, and Little Dean was pretty happy with the whole proceeding.

Sam discovered, though, that going on his knees for Dean was one of his very favourite things in the world, and since pretty much any situation involving Dean’s cock and Sam was Dean’s favourite thing, it all worked out pretty well. Sam sucked him off in diner restrooms, moonlit churchyards with both of them still filthy with grave dirt, wherever and whenever they had a moment. Or he would sit in shotgun, his hand in Dean’s lap, rubbing Dean’s thighs and cock through his jeans until Dean would snap, pull over, and shove Sam’s head into his crotch. Sam would laugh, but he’d unzip and suck Dean down like a pro, humming a little around the thick flesh in his mouth. Sometimes, Dean would let him set the pace: other times, when the teasing had been too much for him, he’d grip Sam’s hair and hold his head so Dean could just pump into his mouth, driving in forcefully until Sam choked and sputtered. He’d never stop sucking, though.

These roadside blowjobs were fun & all, but Dean really liked it when they could take more time. If they were in a town for a few days, no need to get up & on the road at first light, Dean would wake Sam sometimes in the early morning, roll him on his back and kneel over him. Sam would be sleepy and willing, pliant in a way he never was fully awake. Dean loved that so much, straddling his brother’s head with a knee on each arm, pinning Sam in place, leaving him helpless to do anything but moan and arch as Dean slid his cock across Sam’s face, painting his lips and cheeks with the clear sticky fluid pearling at the tip. Sam’s eyelashes would flutter closed, and he’d chase Dean’s cock with lips and tongue. Dean would tease him, holding it just out reach, as Sam pleaded to be allowed to lick, to taste, to swallow. Eventually, Dean would relent, and brush the tip across Sam’s lips, relishing the way they just opened for him. He’d slide in, inch by inch, telling Sam how fucking hot he was like this, such a cockslut, so pretty with his lips stretched around Dean’s dick like he was made for it. Dean would fuck Sam’s mouth with long, slow strokes, as Sam moaned and writhed beneath him.

This was possibly the best part, the two of them locked in a world of their own, all else forgotten. Dean would gaze down at his brother, the giant, the fighter, the most stubborn asshole on the whole goddamn planet, opened to Dean in this moment of total surrender, and Dean would come like he’d never come before, loving the feel of Sam’s mouth working to swallow every drop like it was precious. He couldn’t wait to kiss Sam after; to get his mouth on those sinfully swollen lips and lick the salty, bitter taste of himself from Sam’s mouth.

Even better are the times they get a room with armchairs in front of the TV. Dean’s dick twitches just walking into a motel room with that layout. Sam laughs at him, but Dean doesn’t care, he’ll have that smirk off his brother’s face soon enough.

They’ll settle in normally enough: takeout pizza or Chinese, research, weapon-cleaning, probably an argument about something trivial. Or something pretty much world-ending, lately, but it doesn’t really make much difference to how things will go later. Dean will settle into one of the armchairs, beer in hand, to watch whatever’s on with the most explosions. Or maybe the Food Network: Dean has an unaccountable fetish for wholesome-looking women telling him how to cook things. Sam will settle in to the other chair with his own beer. After a while, he’ll say “this show’s boring, man” or “we’ve seen Die Hard nine million times already” or whatever. Dean’ll look over at him, sideways. “I’m watching it, ok? Go do something else if you don’t like it.”

Sam will slide out of his chair and end up on his knees in front of Dean. “I can think of something else I’d like to do” he’ll say, reaching for Dean’s crotch. “Jesus, Sam, don’t you ever think about anything else?” Dean will say, pushing Sam’s hand away. Sam, kneeling at his feet, will give his very best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Dean,” he’ll say, “Just let me touch you. Been thinkin’ about it all day.” His voice will drop a little, getting deeper and huskier. Dean will grab Sam’s hand, press it to his dick, (which has been rock-hard since “this show’s boring”- total Pavlovian response) and say “This what you want? This what you been thinkin’ about all day, little brother?”

“Yes…” Sam will breathe, reverently stroking the outline of Dean’s erection beneath the denim.

“You just can’t get enough of it, can you?” Dean will shove Sam’s hand away again, wrap one of his hands around the back of Sam’s neck, and pull him in so his face is pressed against Dean’s crotch. “Go for it, then. Suck me, bitch.” Sam will whimper a little and nuzzle at Dean’s cock through his jeans. Dean will stretch his legs, lean back in his chair, and let Sam go at it.

He’ll unbuckle his belt, unzip his jeans, peel them down, leaving only white Hanes between Sam and his goal. Sam will bury his face in them, inhaling Dean’s smell like it’s oxygen and he’s a dying man. He’ll mouth at Dean’s cock through his underwear til they’re damp and clinging, sucking through the fabric and running his hands along Dean’s thighs, cupping his balls through the thin cotton. Dean will pretend to be watching TV still, though honestly he couldn’t tell right now if he’s watching Bruce Willis or Rachel Ray. He’ll get impatient after a while, shove the briefs down past his ass, letting his cock spring free. He’ll bury a hand in Sam’s hair, setting the other on Sam’s jaw, using his thumb to open Sam’s mouth so he can push his cock in. Sam will close his eyes and moan like this is Heaven, like it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

Dean can’t even tell what he’s saying now, a litany of filthy praise dropping from his lips as he fucks Sam’s mouth, pulling at his hair, rough and dirty the way he never would be with girls, the way he never could be with anyone else. “Like that, Sam, suck me, little slut, can’t get enough, can you? C’mon, take it, fuckin’ take it, just like that…”

And Sam does, all of it, everything Dean throws at him and more. If Dean feels like he getting there too soon, or if Sam slips a little with the teeth, he’ll use his tight grip on Sam’s hair to pull him back, off his dick, and just hold him there for a moment while Sam writhes and begs. “Please, Dean, let me, let me suck you, want your cock, fuck me, take me, Dean…” Dean has to be careful with the timing here, because if he’s too close the mere sight of Sam begging like that can be enough to send him over the edge, pulsing white streaks of come across Sam’s face. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but Dean’s not ready for this to be over too soon, he wants to draw this out. He wants to fuck Sam’s face until he’s choking on it, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, gasping and desperate for air, but more desperate for Dean to come down his throat.

 


End file.
